


Your Ex-Lover Is Dead

by orphan_account



Category: Gabriel Knight
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God, it was strange to see her again. Inspired by Stars - "Your Ex-Lover is Dead".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Ex-Lover Is Dead

"Ms. Nakimura, do you know Mr. Knight?"

 

Gabriel looked up from his square glass of scotch and fell into her dark, bottomless eyes. She was beautiful, God, how could he have forgotten how beautiful she was? Petite, elegant, she stood in front of him with quiet confidence, a certainty that he'd missed. Her hair was longer, softer, framing her face in tumbling waves like he always hoped it would, cascading down on to her shoulders. She offered a small, pale hand, which he took, dumbstruck, and her perfect lips curved in a smile as she said, "Yes, I think we've met before."

 

Distantly, he heard a crack of thunder, the sound of rain pattering on the roof, but it was nothing compared to the roaring in his ears. He raised her hand to his mouth and let his lips brush over it delicately, feeling her shiver at the intimate contact. Grace raised an eyebrow, letting her eyes flash with amusement, her composure immaculate except for the faint pink at the top of her cheeks.

 

"Well, I must confess, I  _am_  curious to know how you could have met." The host said, bringing them both back to the present, to the party. "You do the whole reclusive writer thing in Germany. Grace is here on a lecture tour – that's sold out by now, hasn't it? No offence, Gabriel, but from what Gregory told me, you don't exactly rub shoulders with the intellectual elite."

 

Gabriel watched Grace bite her lip and look aside to cover the smirk on her face. "No offence taken, Ernie." He said, dryly. "Gracie here used to work for me. A bookshop in New Orleans."

 

"My God, isn't it funny you running into each other at my party!" Ernie said in the earnest way only a well-bred Englishman could when presented with such a social coincidence.

 

"It's practically hilarious." Gabriel said, his gaze fixed on Grace. He realised he still had her hand, but did not drop it, he just entwined their fingers. She looked up, and he could see her pulse quicken at her throat. "I'd love to find some more side-splitters for you, Ernie, but it's gettin' real late and I think I'll be headin' back."

 

There was a pause, a choice, a breathless moment where she could run away, or plunge ahead. Grace squeezed his hand and asked: "Do you want to share a cab?"

 

The goodbyes were a blur, their hands clasped tight. On the street the rain was driving heavily, a thick curtain that was impossible to see through. Gabriel gave Grace his jacket, and she held it over her head as he hailed down a taxi. Wet, panting, they slid on to the vinyl seats. He turned to her and saw that raindrops had landed on her midnight blue dress, like stars pinned in the sky. It killed him. Grace gave the name of her hotel, and the driver drove. It wasn't far, just over the bridge. They sat in silence, Gabriel too tongue tied to talk.

 

When they arrived he paid in damp pound notes and helped Grace out of the car. Without a word, they took the elevator up to her room, down a corridor. Through the door, and he closed it, pressing her against the wood, mouth on hers, lips parting, inviting. She melted, flowing into him like no time had passed, like she hadn't left him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

Afterwards, she lay her head on his chest, her breathing soft and even. Outside the rain still beat against the window, and he brought a blanket over their bodies. His thumb made lazy circles on her shoulder, stirring her from the light doze. Grace looked up, her eyes huge in her porcelain face. There was a second moment of decision, weightless, heady, the universe waiting for his choice. He kissed her again, too afraid to let her speak, and once more she sank into him.

 

When dawn sent pale light filtering through the window, turning grayscale their bed tableau Gabriel felt the closeness of the night dissolve. Grace kissed him sweetly, her mouth tasting of sadness, regret, the tea they'd made at 4AM. He knew the stage directions well, had played the lead role many times, and so he followed the trail of discarded clothing out of the bed. At the door, he turned to her. "I loved you, Gracie."

 

She just shook her head. "It wasn't love, Gabriel. But it was close."


End file.
